They say beauty buys what a child gets for free. I'm not a child anymore. But when I was, I still had to work for it.

Guess that's what happens when you grow up in a house full of girls. Being pretty got pretty damn old. I had to find something else.

I'll admit it, I don't look as good as I used to. At least that's what James tells me. That's my pimp. "Girl, act like you got some hips! Pull that skirt up and show them thighs! Niggas ain't gonna pay for what they think you ain't got!"

And he's right. I ain't got much. And maybe I'm not cut out for this. But, what else is there, you know?

And I see you: When you hurry your daughters across the street hoping they don't see me twistin' my way into some trick's car. Praying they don't think it's okay. To be like me. Cause nobody ever says they wanna be a hooker when they grow up, huh? Well, guess what? We don't exactly plan it either.

But, hey, I'ma put on a smile, a tight halter, and twist a little bit harder cause, hell, I ain't got much else, you know.